


Cups of Coffee and Fairytales

by fujoshism (fancypineapple)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Fantasy, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:43:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7458256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancypineapple/pseuds/fujoshism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minseok’s daily life is lonely and morose, brightened only by his son, his business, and his garden. One certain spring, a set of unusual rains arrive at his town, along with a rather charming mythical being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cups of Coffee and Fairytales

**Author's Note:**

> written for succerncoffee. originally posted on june 24, 2014. crossposted from my LJ fic comm fujoshism.

When spring comes, early in the morning, Minseok goes out and tends his garden.

That’s how it has been in the past years, and, as March turns into April and Minseok wakes up to another rainy day, he wonders what he should do. He sits at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in hands, listening to the rhythmic sound of the raindrops falling outside, and worries about his flowers; would the heavy rain hurt his cosmos, a flower of delicate, thin stems? Would the hydrangeas bloom off-season? What if the excess of rain washes away the nutrients and kills the plants? 

He’s not in agony, but, rather, there’s a placid sense of responsibility nagging at his insides, softly, but persistently. Sighing, he takes a sip of his coffee.

The sound of steps denounce Sehun’s presence; it’s not long before the boy is entering the kitchen, socks sliding slightly on the wooden floor as he buttons up his uniform jacket. Minseok smiles at him. “Good morning, Sehun-ah.”

“G’morning,” Sehun mumbles, going to Minseok’s side of the table to kiss his forehead. He’s still drowsy with sleep, and almost trips on Minseok’s cane when going back to his usual seat at the table. “Did you eat?”

“Not yet,” Minseok confesses, taking another sip of his coffee. He sniffs. It’s unusually cold for a spring day. 

d

Right outside the kitchen’s windows, towards the frontgate, there’s the garden’s pergola. Minseok watches as the rain washes over the honeysuckle flowers, and wonders, sadly, if they’ll be able to bloom properly this year. Sehun notices his glance, and turns around to look too. “Raining again,” Sehun mumbles, mouth full of toast. “Be careful around the garden, ‘kay?”

“I have to go to the shop today, though,” Minseok says, resisting to the urge to avoid Sehun’s eyes. “Meeting with the management.”

Sehun makes a face. “ _Dad_ ,” he half-whines, half-objects.

“I’ll be careful,” is the promise Minseok makes. The one he always makes. “I’ll walk slowly, and watch my step. Do you want me to fetch you at the riverside today?”

The offer makes Sehun purse his lips in thought for a minute. Minseok can read his thoughts, clear as water. “Sure,” the boy decides finally, finishing his breakfast in one mouthful and getting up. “Take your umbrella.”

“You too!” Minseok retorts as Sehun drops his plate at the sink and climbs the stairs back up. Minseok, too, finishes his coffee, and grabs his cane, getting on his feet with certain difficulty. “And don’t forget your lunch!”

Sehun remember the lunch, but almost forgets the umbrella. He kisses Minseok on his cheek at the doorstep when he goes, walking his way down the garden’s pathway, then out of the front gate and down the hill.

It’s near eight in the morning, and the rainclouds are finally opening up, letting some rays of sunshine through the thin drizzling rain. Minseok risks a quick inspection around the garden, getting his slippers and the hem of his pants, as well as the tip of his cane, dirty with mud. The soil is soft, and the stone pathway is slippery, but the flowers seem to be fine for now. Even the cosmos.

“Good morning, hyung!” A fchirpy voice greets Minseok from the streets, and he raises his head to see who it is. Standing right beyond the low front fence is Junmyeon, Minseok’s friendly neighbor, waving at him.

“Good morning, Junmyeon,” Minseok straightens his spine, and walks towards the fence to go greet him properly. As always, Junmyeon immediately starts telling him that he _doesn’t need to get up, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to_ —but Minseok is pays him no mind and keeps walking, leading the younger man to look a bit embarrassed. “How are you doing today? Are you going to work?”

“In a bit, yeah. And this weather, huh?” Junmyeon glances at the cloudy sky, and so does Minseok. He notices how Junmyeon inches his black umbrella a little forward, subtly, and maybe unconsciously, trying to shelter Minseok from the light rain. “We haven’t had a spring like this in over twenty years, they say. Also, have you heard the rumors?”

There’s always a rumor going around about something – small country-side towns are never short of gossip, Minseok has learnt – and there’s no reason to ignore them most times, so Minseok answers, “I haven’t. What is it about?”

“Well… it’s a bit of an absurd one,” Junmyeon shakes his head in a condescending way, as if he weren’t one of the most superstitious people Minseok knows. “A lot of kids are telling their parents about meeting a strange man at the park near the riverside. Has Sehun told you anything about it?”

Minseok frowns. “He hasn’t,” he answers, rummaging his memory for any mention to strange men Sehun might’ve made. “A strange man?”

“They say the guy looks homeless. Dressed in rags, and barefoot, even in the rain,” Junmyeon tells him with a stern look in his face. “Five or six kids saw him already. And you know the weirdest thing about it?” He lowers his voice to a whisper, leaning closer to Minseok, as if it were a secret. “They say he carries a big leaf over his head.”

Minseok almost bursts out laughing. He manages to hold it back, but a smile escapes from his grasp, and he can see the frustrated look in Junmyeon’s face. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. A leaf?”

“A giant leaf. Like an umbrella. It’s what Sooyeon said that her daughter’s classmate told her,” Junmyeon leans away, pouting slightly. Minseok feels sorry for him; he wishes he could believe the story more easily so Junmyeon would be pleased. “Must be a nonsense urban legend. School kids make up all kinds of stories nowadays. How’s Sehunnie, by the way?”

“Oh, he’s doing jolly well,” Minseok smiles brightly in an attempt at being kinder to his neighbor. “Can you believe he’s grown ten centimeters since last spring? He’s almost taller than me now!”

Junmyeon laughs, shaking his head in delight. “They grow so fast. It’s a blink of an eye, I tell you.” To that, Minseok merely nods, and there’s a brief moment of silence between them before Junmyeon adds, “I should get going now, hyung. Maybe we can meet up for lunch today, what do you think?”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. I have a lot of things to do, and I don’t know how long it’ll take,” Minseok makes an apologetic face. “Do invite me next time, though. It’s been a while.”

“I will,” Junmyeon smiles, waving goodbye to him. “Have a nice day!” And he walks down the hill with broad steps.

There. Minseok has woken up, prepared Sehun’s lunch, tended his garden, despite the rain, and talked to Junmyeon. It’s officially time for him to move on with his routine and get going to the shop, or he’ll be late. With each careful step he gives towards the house, and each click the wooden cane produces on the stone path of his garden, Junmyeon’s story about the homeless stranger fades away from his mind.

 

 

 

Minseok is an eccentric figure. He’s unfortunately aware of it, and even more unfortunately aware that it can’t be helped. A young man with a cane couldn’t possibly go unnoticed in such a small town, but it’s not only that; even though his clothes are plain, and his appearance is unremarkable, and his presence itself isn’t all that strong, sometimes, he feels… odd. Misplaced. Rather, he feels like others look at him and know, immediately, that he isn’t from the area – that, no matter how many years he spends there, living there, in his house atop the hill, he’ll still be a foreigner. 

Sometimes, Minseok smells his own sweaters, and wonders if he, himself, smells of Seoul.

He then laughs at himself for being silly, and swats those thoughts away.

Every citizen greets him on his way to town, sheltered under their large, black umbrellas. Some ask him about Sehun – how is he, is he doing well at school, how tall is he again?, oh, children grow so fast – and others about the shop, usually followed by a promise of dropping by later to grab a cup of coffee and a slice of cake. Some follow their words, some don’t. Minseok never remembers who does.

The bell above the door tinkles when Minseok enters the coffee shop, clumsily closing his umbrella with only his left hand. Immediately, all the employees glance at the door, and smile when they see Minseok there.

“Boss! Good morning!” They all come to the door greet him, bowing politely and guiding him inside. The treatment always makes Minseok flustered and embarrassed – “The customers are looking!” he objects at times, partially mortified – but he knows that his employees do it _because_ they know how flushed he gets over it. 

“Can I get you a premium capuccino?” Hyerin offers, helping him to his usual table.

“And a plate of butterscotch biscuits?” Jimin adds, straightening the napkin holder, even though she didn’t need to.

“A slice of strawberry shortcake?” Jungyoon completes, opening the menu in front of him with her professional smile.

Minseok tries to shoot them a glare, but he can’t help to smile a little at the girl’s treatment. “An americano, please. And my papers, if you may.”

Jungyoon closes the menu. “The usual then,” she rolls her eyes, and Minseok laughs.

He spends his morning there, sipping coffee and sorting through the store’s registers for the month. At some point, the manager, a soft-spoken young man named Hongbin, comes out to greet him, and they talk about what they have to fix, and what they can change to make the shop better. Even if his bad leg aches dully from walking, as it usually does, and Jimin brings him a plate of biscuits, despite him having refused them, Minseok feels at peace. 

Then, glancing distractedly through the window as Hongbin tells him about possible menu changes, his eyes spot something strange.

There aren’t many people in the streets at that hour; it’s eerily quiet outside, in a way that used to make Minseok uneasy all those years ago, before he learnt this was the town’s usual pace. The only sound that can be heard is the rain falling outside, an occasional bicycle passing through, and, very rarely, a motorcycle or a small car; from where Minseok sits, he can spot some people coming in and out from a nearby flower shop, and, sporadically, someone just passing by, umbrella in hands, walking in a rush. That’s why what Minseok sees stands out so much, too strange in the quiet Thursday morning.

A person, dressed in rags, carrying an enormous butterbur leaf over their head. Enormous, as big as an umbrella, and vividly green – there can’t possibly be butterbur leaves that big, right? Minseok doesn’t notice he’s staring until the person with the giant leaf stops walking, and stares back.

What strange, vivid eyes that person has!

“Boss?” Hongbin calls, and Minseok snaps out of it, turning back to his employee. This time, however, it’s Hongbin who’s looking through the window, and he frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“I was wondering…” Minseok tells him, and turns to take another look. And yet, to his surprise… “It’s gone!” He gasps.

“What’s gone?” Hongbin scans the streets analytically, but it’s futile; the man is gone as suddenly as he had appeared. Outside, there’s only the rain. 

Minseok sighs quietly. He’s sure of what he saw, but… “Pay me no mind,” he brushes it off. “I must be seeing things. Now, back to the menu…”

Soon, they slide back into a conversation about honey buns and molasses, and Minseok can see that Hongbin forgets about the happening almost immediately. He, however, does not.

Instead, he’s caught remembering Junmyeon’s words from earlier that morning. After digesting those thoughts for a while, over another cup of americano and the same plate of butterscotch biscuits he slowly consumes, he concludes that he must have been too impressed with Junmyeon’s talk, and accidentally projected the man with the leaf in the streets. The rain had grown much more vicious since he had left home; surely, it was easy to see strange shapes in the mist of raindrops.

And yet… it had been such a vivid image. It had felt very real.

Minseok worries that he might be catching a cold, and eats another biscuit.

 

 

When it’s finally time for him to fetch Sehun, Minseok feels unfortunately tired. His bad leg aches quite badly, perhaps from walking from the coffee shop to a nearby bistro to have lunch, and he feels a migraine start to form behind his eyes. Not only that, but the rain, which had fortunately paused during late morning up to lunch time, is once again falling, and Minseok is starting to feel cold. He knows that, if he appeared ill or uncomfortable when fetching Sehun from school, his son would throw a royal fit about how he needs to be more careful, and that he shouldn’t mistreat his own health so badly.

So, in order for Sehun not to know, Minseok puts on a strong front, and walks to the riverside.

The nearer he gets to the river, the stronger the wind is, and the colder it seems to get. In normal conditions, walking in the rain is already a mildly complicated task for him, with the cane and umbrella to manage; the strong wind slows him down considerably, and it seems that the tighter his grip around the umbrella is, the stronger the wind blows, as if trying to throw him off balance.

Eventually, the unavoidable happens – a very strong blow breaks Minseok’s umbrella, and the struggle to keep a hold on it makes him fall on the uneven sidewalk, cane rolling into the nearest gutter. The stab of pain that pierces his bad leg is so sudden and so intense that he doesn’t hear himself screaming.

For a split second, everything goes white.

But it’s gone as quickly as it comes, and Minseok is suddenly aware that he’s lying face-first on concrete, his sweater gradually turning very wet and cold, on top of being dirty. He also needs to retrieve his cane immediately, before it gets carried away by the water, because losing his umbrella to the wind might be inconvenient, but if he loses his cane, he won’t be able to get up. Squirming clumsily, Minseok attempts to push himself up with his arms, but another stab of pain comes, and he whimpers, falling to the floor a second time.

In the back of his mind, he registers the smell of rain water, and the faint sound of footsteps approaching him.

How humiliating.

He almost expects the touch that comes to his shoulder; what he doesn’t expect, however, is to be violently flipped onto his back without a warning, and, when it happens, he yelps. His entire leg hurts now, from the scar on his thigh to the base of his ankle, and it spreads a little to his hip, pulsating dully. He heaves a little to recover from the startle, but stops breathing when he recognizes the face in front of his.

It’s the person with the leaf.

They look different from up close. Their face is small, and round, and Minseok isn’t even sure if they’re human, even less sure whether they’re male or female or both or none. Their eyes are still oddly vivid, just like Minseok had seen them from his seat in the café, but now, they seem to be clouded with concern. Minseok blinks, looking up. Over his head, the giant butterbur leaf shelters both of them from the rain.

“Thank you,” Minseok speaks up, at last, and it seems to startle the person a little. He softens his voice. “Would you help me up?”

Oddly, the person doesn’t offer a hand. They don’t offer a hand, but Minseok feels himself being pulled up – by what? – almost too quickly. He gets on his feet, but loses balance, because of the lack of his cane, and almost falls back down. This time, the person holds him in place with their actual hands; an arm around Minseok’s waist, as if they were waltzing. It’s embarrassing, but Minseok is grateful. He’s also curious.

“What is your name?” he asks. He hopes no one passes by them at that moment. It’d be easy to get the wrong idea. 

“Lu Han.” It’s the first time Minseok hears them make a sound. Their voice is as androgynous as the rest of his appearance, and just as ethereal. 

“Lu Han,” Minseok repeats, testing the syllables, and maybe he’s imagining things, but he sees Lu Han’s mysterious eyes twinkle a little at that. “Would you help me to get my cane, Lu Han? I seem to have lost it when I fell down.”

Lu Han nods. “Sit here,” they say, and Minseok feels himself be guided to a nearby bench, but he doesn’t feel Lu Han’s hand pull or push him in anyway; just hold him, gently, barely there. Then, Lu Han thrusts the stalk of the giant butterbur leaf into Minseok’s hand – and it’s a shock to feel its texture, for Minseok, because that’s definitely a real leaf, except they don’t _ever_ grow so big and tall – and turns his back to him. 

For a few seconds, Lu Han just stands there; they don’t move, or talk, and Minseok can barely hear them breathe. Then, they turn around, smiling – their smile isn’t pretty nor ugly, but unnatural, non-human in a way – with Minseok’s cane in hands.

“Here,” they say. Minseok is in awe as he accepts the cane, which is very wet, but intact. He’s not sure of what just happened in front of his eyes, and, in stunned silence, he gives the butterbur leaf back to Lu Han, who sits on the bench by his side, still sheltering both of them from the rain.

A brief moment of silence. 

Minseok shoots Lu Han a glance; they’re sitting with their legs crossed, and their eyes are closed, as if they were meditating. Soon, however, they seem to feel Minseok’s glance on them, and turn around to face him. 

“Oh,” Minseok is a bit embarrassed for being caught staring, but decides it’s a good time to start a conversation. “Forgive my rudeness, but I was wondering… are you a man? Or a woman?”

Lu Han blinks. Even to Minseok’s own ears, the question seems invasive and unnecessary; he almost expects Lu Han to lash at him, or maybe to walk away angrily. It’d serve him good for being nosy, Minseok thought.

But instead, Lu Han blinks and answers, “I’m a faerie.”

Another brief moment of silence. It’s Minseok’s turn to blink, expression blank. “Oh.”

Of course, having someone tell him they’re a mythical creature doesn’t exactly happen often to Minseok. However, in that moment, it makes sense. It matches the oddness that seems to surround Lu Han. Perhaps Minseok blacked out when he fell, and now he’s immersed in a long, elaborated hallucination. Yes, that’s a possibility. Minseok chooses to just go along with it.

“A faerie, then,” Minseok nods, glancing around them. They’re at the park near the riverside, precisely where Junmyeon said the mysterious person appeared to the children. Maybe Minseok’s superstitious neighbor had been telling him the truth. “What should I call you, then? Just ‘Lu Han’?”

Lu Han nods. Their lips are pursed in a small smile, and their pupils move in frenzy as they study Minseok’s face. “What are you called?” They ask.

“I’m Kim Minseok. Nice to meet you.” Minseok offers a hand for Lu Han to shake, but, instead of shaking it, they pick it up delicately, bringing it up to take a closer look. Minseok has never had his hand so closely analyzed by someone who isn’t Sehun, but he figures that it must be how faeries greet each other. “So…” Minseok hesitates as Lu Han finally lets go of his hand, seemingly satisfied. “It’s my first time meeting a faerie, actually.”

Lu Han smiles. “It’s my first time meeting a human, too,” they confess. “I mean, I’ve seen a lot of humans, but from afar. I’ve never talked to one.”

Minseok hums. “I see,” he does his best to phrase the next question delicately. “Are you visiting the human realm for any reason, or…?”

There’s a short silence after that, as Lu Han seems not to have understood the question. Minseok is wondering how to complete the phrase when it finally sinks. “Oh! No, I just wanted to visit it,” Lu Han grins, and shoots the sky a glance. “But it’s been raining a lot.”

“Oh, yes, it has,” Minseok follows, also glancing at the ash grey sky. “It’s not usual for it to rain so much at this time of the year. The weather usually dries up when March comes.”

“Yes, the water sprites told me,” Lu Han nods. Minseok feels a bit thrown off. The water sprites, huh…? “The seasons this year will be special. But it’s making the humans wet.”

The last part accidentally makes Minseok laugh, and the sound seems to startle Lu Han a little. Minseok bites his lip, apologetic. “It is, indeed,” he agrees, barely able to contain his smile. “I, myself, feel very wet.”

“I know that humans don’t like being wet,” Lu Han justifies, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “They hide from the rain, and rub the water off their skins when they swim. Lately, I’ve seen a lot of them getting wet, so,” they move the butterbur leaf a little, and a cascade of raindrops fall before Minseok’s eyes. “I try to help.”

Comprehension dawns upon Minseok. “So this is why you’ve been helping the children.” Suddenly, he remembers that he shouldn’t be sitting there talking to a faerie; he should be on his way to the riverside, to fetch Sehun after school! His eyes widen. “Oh, this is terrible. I just remembered I have an urgent matter to attend, and should really get going. It’s a pity.”

“Where are you going?” Lu Han watches with curiosity as he struggles with the cane to get on his feet. The leg doesn’t hurt anymore; it’s just its usual rigid, heavy self once again, and, for that, Minseok is glad. Resting for a while really was the key. 

“I need to meet my son at the bridge. I promised him I’d take him home today.” Only when Minseok is on his feet does he realize he has lost his umbrella. Well, it can’t be helped. “I hope to see you around, Lu Han. How long are you staying?”

“However long I wish to,” Lu Han smiles as they, too, get on their feet. “I still have three spells with me. That should last for a while.”

Minseok hasn’t the slightest idea of what they’re talking about, so he smiles politely. “I’ll see you around, then. Have a good day.”

He waits till Lu Han waves him goodbye, and turns his back to the faerie, leaving the comfort of the butterbur leaf and walking into the rain. It has grown weaker since Minseok had fallen, and so, he didn’t get as wet as he thought he would.

In fact, he didn’t get half as wet as he thought he would, specially because, when he has advanced all but ten steps, Sehun comes out running from the woods. The startle is great; Minseok goes cold from the sudden adrenaline rush.

“Sehun!” He shouts, face stony as his son approaches him, umbrella in hands. “What are you—”

“Why don’t you have your umbrella!” Sehun shouts indignantly, holding his own umbrella above his head in order to shelter both of them from the drizzling rain. “What are you trying to do, get sick!? And what happened to you?! You’re all dirty!!”

Minseok sighs. “I fell down,” he confesses, and he sees Sehun’s eyes narrow. “No, I didn’t hurt myself. I can still take a small fall, Sehun, thank you. And the umbrella broke.”

At Minseok’s dry, snappish tone, Sehun’s outrage wilts a little. He looks down somewhat sadly, and Minseok feels immediately sorry for being harsh on him. “I’m sorry,” Sehun mumbles. 

“It’s okay, little one. I know you’re just worried,” Minseok runs a hand through Sehun’s hair. He’s startled, once again, by how much Sehun has grown; it won’t be long till he’s taller than his own father. “I’m sorry for being careless and falling. If I had known the wind would be this strong, I’d have gone home.” A pause. Then, Minseok remembers something. “What were you doing in the woods? I thought you were supposed to wait for me at the bridge.”

The question seems to startle Sehun. Then, he widens his eyes. “I was hiding! I saw you talking to the fairy! I didn’t think you’d come, because it was raining, so I started walking home, but I saw you there with the fairy! So I hid there until she left, because I thought, if anything happens to dad, I can just run there and save him,” he explains in a rush.

“You know Lu Han, then?” Minseok raises his brows in surprise. “Have you met them before? You didn’t tell me about this.”

“I haven’t, but some of my classmates have. No one ever talked to her, though,” Sehun adds. 

“I’m not sure if they’re a ‘she’, honey,” Minseok mutters, turning around to see if Lu Han was still at the bench. To no one’s surprise, they were already gone. “And they don’t seem dangerous. Apparently, they’re on vacation.”

“On vacation?” Sehun frowns. “That’s weird.”

“It certainly isn’t. If you could go on a trip to the faerie world, wouldn’t you?” Minseok teases him, and Sehun seems to consider it. He’s very cute, Minseok thinks, smiling to himself. Very like his mother. “Let’s go home, Sehun. It’s cold outside, and I don’t want you to be sick.”

“I’m more worried about _you_ getting sick,” Sehun mutters in response, but lets himself be guided home.

 

 

 

“There! What did I say?” Sehun puts his hands on his waist when, the following morning, he finds his father coughing and sneezing, body limp from a mild fever. “Hate to say I told you so, but…”

“You nag too much,” Minseok whines, buried chin-deep in blankets. He had gone as far as going downstairs and cooking breakfast before realizing he should probably lie down. Outside, the rain falls thin and silent. “You’re still a child, don’t let your soul get so old so soon.”

“I’m not a child! I’m fifteen years old,” Sehun objects, putting a cooling patch on Minseok’s forehead. “I don’t know what medicine you should take, so I just put everything on that tray over there. Remember to take it.”

Minseok can’t help but laugh. “Sure. Don’t forget your umbrella.”

“Don’t go out today,” Sehun retorts, and leans forward to kiss Minseok on the cheek. “I’m off. Bye bye.”

Soon, the front gate clicks closed, and Minseok is alone.

The morning weather is not as bad as it had been in the previous day; the rain is much lighter, and the clouds are much thinner, allowing the day to be brighter. However, Minseok has the feeling he heard it rain pretty heavily during the night, and he wants to at least take a look at the cosmos, to make sure they’re okay. And he can’t. Not while he has a fever, or he might fall quite seriously ill. 

He decides that, even if he can’t go outside to tend the flowers, he can at least look at them from the kitchen window. Besides – he reasons with himself as he gets up from his bed, sneezing painfully – he’s thirsty. And he should eat something, so his body would have the energy to fight the sickness. And so he goes, cane clicking softly on the wooden floor. 

The kitchen is slightly dark, but warm, and smells faintly of coffee. The windows are shut, as they have been every rainy day, and the lace curtains are pulled, giving the small kitchen a somber, lonely look. With certain difficulty, feeling, of all things, queasy and mildly dizzy, Minseok walks up to the front window, and pulls the small curtains open so to take a look at the garden.

He almost has a heart attack when he sees someone outside, in the garden, sitting right under the pergola. His startle soon dies down, though, and turns into a feeling pleasant surprise when he recognizes the person outside – the rags, the pale skin, the vivid eyes and the giant leaf over their head.

With a swing of the lock, he opens his window, and calls out, “Lu Han!”

The faerie looks up abruptly, a little startled, and Minseok wonders if they expected to meet him there. Soon, their face melt in a radiant smile, and it might be the fever, but Minseok thinks he sees the raindrops twinkle around them. 

“Minseok!” Lu Han shouts back, and hurries to meet him at the window. They run with their feet barely touching the ground; when they reach the window, Minseok has the feeling they’re literally floating. “I found you! So this is really where you live.”

“You’ve been looking for me?” Minseok tilts his head with curiosity. Lu Han nods. “How did you find me then?”

“I asked around,” Lu Han says simply, and Minseok is having a good time imagining Lu Han talking to the other townspeople when they add, “all the flowers know you. Even the ones at the park. I just followed their directions.”

Minseok blinks. “The flowers…?” He’s not sure if he ever introduced himself to flowers that aren’t his own. 

“They say you take good care of them,” Lu Han shoots the flowers a glance, and chuckles. “All the flowers like you a lot. They’re shy about it, though.”

Against his better judgement, Minseok blushes faintly, leaning over the window to cast his flowers a glance. If only he could understand them! “Speaking of the flowers,” he says, suddenly remember why he left his bed. “Lu Han, would you be so kind to take a look at my cosmos? I’m worried about them. It’s been raining a lot, and their stems are fragile.”

Lu Han turns their head to look at the cosmos, without needing Minseok to point at them, and it’s an exquisite feeling to finally meet someone who recognizes the flowers. “Ah, them,” Lu Han nods, and rushes to take a look. 

This time, Minseok observes how they walk, and clearly sees how Lu Han floats in between each step, as if gravity didn’t apply to them, or as if they were made of matter lighter than air. Around them, the raindrops seem to gleam clearer. At that moment, the strangeness of it all suddenly sinks – Minseok is slowly, but surely, befriending a magical creature. He isn’t one to believe fairytales and legends, has never been, but… looking at Lu Han, there’s no possibility they could be human. There’s nothing they could be, to Minseok’s eyes, but a faerie. It feels extremely strange.

“Some of them are broken,” Lu Han announces, and Minseok snaps out of it.

“Oh no!” Before he can come to his senses, Minseok is already making his way outside. Just a look, he promises himself. He won’t get too wet, he just wants to take a look. Then, he’ll come inside, and take his medicine, and eat. When he walks through the front door, Lu Han is kneeling down next to the cosmos, working something in their hands. Careful not to slip on the wet stone pathway, Minseok joins them. “Which ones are broken?”

“Oh,” Lu Han looks up at him with wide, surprised eyes. In their hands, which Minseok sees clearly now, there’s an odd substance, that looks, at the same time, solid, liquid, and gas; a milky stream of mist, which Lu Han holds in their palm with ease. “I’m using a spell to help them,” Lu Han says, and demonstrates their words by grabbing a piece of the substance – the spell, Minseok supposes – and applying it to one of the broken cosmos stems. They then stroke the stem upwards a few times, and, when they let go, the flower is healthy once again, as if it had never been broken. 

Minseok can’t believe in what he sees, but, at the same time, he can’t believe anything else. 

“That’s,” a violent sneeze shakes his frame. “That’s amazing, Lu Han!” The force of the sneeze makes Minseok a little dizzy, and once again aware of his fever. It’s about time he heads back inside, but he wants to watch Lu Han fix all the cosmos with the spell, so he stays, protecting himself from the rain by staying under Lu Han’s leaf. “What about the other flowers? Are they well?”

“Yes,” Lu Han answers, glancing around for the other flowers. “They’re a bit unhappy with the weather, but they’re fine. The honeysuckle will bloom well this summer.”

“That’s good,” Minseok smiles at the honeysuckle, which pends in cascades of leaves over the pergola, timid white flowers specked over its foliage. He loves all his flowers, but the honeysuckle is particularly special to him. 

“Is it?” Lu Han asks, and Minseok is terribly startled. He didn’t mean to say it out loud. “Why?”

“Oh… well…” it’s a bit embarrassing. Minseok has never told that to anyone. “It’s my son’s mother’s favorite flower.” After a thoughtful pause, he adds, “it used to be, at least.”

Lu Han blinks, visibly confused. Minseok wonders if faeries have a traditional institution similar to family, or marriage. There’s a lot about faypeople he has yet to learn, it seems. Minseok decides to explain.

“I haven’t met Sehun’s mother in… twelve or thirteen years,” he says, sniffing as snot threatens to congest his nose. “Last time I saw her, she was a circus artist. Uh, do you know what a circus is?” Lu Han nods fervently, absorbed in the story. “Well, because of that, she travels a lot. I lost touch with her when Sehun was a small kid.”

“Were you a circus artist too?” Lu Han asks, and Minseok is starting to think he should really go back inside. His dizziness is getting worse, and his leg aches. 

“For a short time,” is all Minseok says, thinking of a good way to politely dismiss Lu Han. After some thinking, however, he concludes he doesn’t really want to dismiss Lu Han yet, and instead, “Would you like to come in? We shouldn’t be out here, in the rain.”

“Oh! Right,” Lu Han jumps up to their feet, spraying raindrops everywhere as the butterbur leaf shakes. “It’s very wet out here.”

“It is,” Minseok chuckles, propping himself on his cane to get to his feet. “Very wet. I guess humans really aren’t a fan of moisture. How do faeries deal with the rain?”

“Deal?” Lu Han tilts their head to the side, following Minseok up the stone pathway. Then, they exclaim, “oh! You mean if we hide?”

“I’m guessing you don’t,” Minseok admits, waiting for Lu Han at the porch. He’s wondering what Lu Han will do with the leaf when he comes in, and, while he’s wondering, the leaf disappears from the faeries’ hands. Oh. Okay. 

“My kin doesn’t mind the rain, but some do hide when it gets too strong,” is what Lu Han tells him, and Minseok notices the butterbur leaf, now much smaller, sprouting from the very top of Lu Han’s head. It looks funny; a single green leaf standing in a mat of dark brown hair. Minseok holds the laughter in, and opens the door.

“Come in,” he invites, and comes in himself. To his surprise, Lu Han hesitates at the doorstep. Minseok frowns. “Is something wrong?”

“Uh,” Lu Han takes a hesitating look inside, eyes wide. “Is… is it safe? I’ve never been into one of those.”

Minseok can’t help it; he laughs. He laughs so loud, and so suddenly, that it’s surprising even to himself. Lu Han, too, looks surprised, but there’s a delighted half-smile on his lips, and Minseok is glad that he’s not offended. 

“You’re scared of entering an _house_?” Minseok jeers, aware that it might be a tad rude of him, but taking the chance. Lu Han pouts, frowning sadly, but it’s clear that they’re just joking as well. “Well, I guess it’s only fair. I’d never go into a cave without looking first. I assure you, it’s safe.”

“If you say so…” Lu Han gives in, finally walking – in that light, floating way they do – through the door. Behind the faerie’s back, Minseok locks the front door, and rushes to the kitchen to make coffee for his guest.

 

 

As they talk over two cups of black coffee, Minseok learns a lot about the faypeople. He learns that Lu Han lives not very far from there, closer to the town than Seoul, in a vast green area by a riverbank; that they sleeps at the roots of a weeping willow, and, when it snows, they hide in an abandoned truck that has been there for many decades; that they used to live far, far away, but don’t like staying for long anywhere, because, according to them, they don’t get along well with the other faeries.

“What about your hometown? The place where you were born,” Minseok adds to clarify. 

“It’s very far away,” Lu Han affirms, but then they seem to realize that isn’t what Minseok had meant with the question, so they amend, “I liked it, but I wanted to see more. I didn’t want to live all my life there and never see the world.”

“I see.” It reminds Minseok of _her_.

Another thing he learns, much to his amusement, is that Lu Han blooms in spring.

“Seriously?” he asks incredulously, guffawing in disbelief as Lu Han nods firmly. “What do you mean?!”

“Here, take a look,” Lu Han leans forward, offering their hair for Minseok to see. “I should be blooming soon, in ten days or so.”

And it’s true; hidden by Lu Han’s hair, there are innumerous flower buds sprouting from their scalp, still green and very tiny. Trying to imagine what Lu Han looks like in full bloom, Minseok asks, “what color are they?”

“Lavender-colored,” Lu Han seems a bit bummed by that fact. “And they’re very small. They’ll open soon, and then you’ll see.”

“I should hope I do,” Minseok retorts, grinning from ear to ear.

Another interesting thing that happens is that Lu Han tries coffee for the first time – which they know about, as they seem to do with many human things, but have never tasted – and they absolutely love it. They down it amazingly quick, and drink two more cups. The caffeine doesn’t take long to hit, and, as the conversation goes on, they become louder and louder, as well as more and more enthusiastic.

Minseok, on the other hand, feels terrible. He hasn’t taken his medicine, nor has he eaten or rested, and it’s starting to take a toll on him. Even though he wants to hear more stories from Lu Han – they’re now telling about the things they admire the most about the human world, and about the faeries’ usual disdain towards all human things – he’s not sure if he’ll physically stand it anymore. As the hours tick by, he becomes weaker.

Eventually, when it’s almost noon, Lu Han seems to notice. “You don’t seem well,” they say, frowning. “Do I talk too much?”

“No! Not at all,” Minseok shakes the possibility away, and almost cringes at how feeble his own voice sounds to his ear. “Not at all. I’m… a bit out of sorts today, that’s all.”

“You’re ill.” It’s not a question; it’s a realization. The faerie look like they’ve gotten and answer for an important question, and the concern shows in the delicate lines of their face. 

“A tad,” Minseok begrudgingly confesses. “It’s not serious, but…”

“I’m sorry for not seeing it,” Lu Han looks down, apparently a bit ashamed. “I’m not as good with humans as I am with flowers.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not your fault,” Minseok assures them, and prepares to get up. “I should get myself some medicine. Just a second, I’ll—”

But, as he gets to his feet, his vision swims and blackens – oh no, he’s losing consciousness! Minseok makes an effort to stay awake, but sways on his feet, and drops his cane to the floor, tumbling wobbly until something holds him into place.

“Are you hurt?”

Well… all efforts of not alarming Lu Han were futile. The faerie is now holding Minseok by the waist, for the second time that same week, and looking down at him with very worried eyes. Minseok’s first impulse is to say that he’s fine, but, in all honesty, he’s really not.

“Perhaps I should lie down for a bit,” he admits. “You can keep me company in my room, if you want to. Or, if you’d rather not…”

Lu Han shakes their head firmly. “I’ll help you,” they say, and look around, somewhat lost. “Now… where should I take you…?”

Would they recognize a bedroom if they saw one? “I’ll show you the way,” Minseok decides to say, finding it safer. “Would you help me get my cane? I think I dropped it somewhere.”

“I got it.” This time, Minseok watches as the cane leaps from where it’s fallen, near the sink, right to Lu Han’s hand, held barely above Minseok’s head. He’s fascinated. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” Lu Han frowns in confusion.

“Just… never mind.” Minseok accepts back his cane, and gets to his feet, guiding Lu Han to his bedroom.

It’s not a long walk, as Minseok’s house isn’t very wide, but each step seems to weigh his entire body down. By the time he reaches the bed, he’s relieved to do so, and almost lies down without pulling a chair for Lu Han first. The faerie sits by the bedside, eyeing Minseok with sadness and concern.

“Don’t be so blue, Lu Han,” Minseok cheers him. “It’s nothing. I should be fine by tomorrow morning.”

“But right now, you’re in pain,” Lu Han reasons, and their voice is slightly whiny, like a child’s. It’s unlike Sehun’s whines, though; when Sehun whines, he’s usually angry, while Lu Han sounds disappointed. “I wish I could fix that.”

A tiny smile blossoms on Minseok’s lips. “You can,” he says. “Talk to me, and I’ll feel better.”

“I feel like I’ve run out of stories, too,” Lu Han admits melancholically. Then, his eyes twinkle. “Can I ask you for some stories?”

Even though Minseok is not fond of telling stories about himself – he find his own life and memories too dull to be told to anyone – he figures it’s only fair, since Lu Han has told him so much already. “Yes, of course,” he agrees, and makes himself comfortable. “What do you want to hear?”

Lu Han, then, makes a series of oddly trivial questions – “what do you like to eat?”, “Did you go to school?”, “Have you ever ridden a bicycle?” – which Minseok answers truthfully, always doubting how any of that can be of the faeries interest. And yet more oddly, all of Minseok’s spectacularly mundane answers seem to amaze Lu Han more and more, and each detail makes a new question sprout from the faerie’s lips. 

Eventually, though, Lu Han seems to notice they might be tiring Minseok down even more, and stops making questions. As much as Minseok knows he truly should rest, he’s bummed. He doesn’t like silence. He has too much of it already, almost every day.

“I should try to use a spell on you,” is the next thing Lu Han says, after a mildly long moment of silence. Minseok blinks, thinking back to the garden, of how the misty substance had cured his cosmos’ broken stems.

“I suppose you could,” he says thoughtfully, but then he remembers something. “Wouldn’t it be a waste, though? I remember that you mentioned, at the park, that you only had three spells with you.”

“Two is more than enough for me.” Lu Han is already rummaging the rags they wear – Minseok wonders if there’s some kind of pocket in them – and seems to find something, which he holds up in the air: a small jar, filled with the spell. “If I run out, I’ll have to go back home, but, for now, I don’t think I need to worry.”

Minseok frowns, not yet sure if it’s a good idea. What if Lu Han is in dire need of a spell later? But then again, Minseok doesn’t really know what a spell does, or in what situations it becomes necessary, so he decides to take the faeries’ words on it. “What should I do, then? Should I swallow it?”

Lu Han ponders for a moment, frowning and pursing their thin lips. “I don’t know,” they admit, emptying the jar on their palm, and Minseok watches as the spell coils around itself. “I’ll let it decide what to do.”

Wait, so do spells have some kind of conscience? Minseok is increasingly confused about the nature of spells, but, when he’s about to ask, the coiled mist on Lu Han’s hand floats down towards Minseok – then, in a blink of an eye, it enters Minseok’s mouth, and goes down his throat. Minseok almost chokes.

“Oh,” Lu Han says faintly as Minseok silently agonizes. “I don’t think I’ve ever swallowed a spell. How does it feel?”

“It burns!” Minseok chokes out, heaving a little. “But it’s also cold!?” The icy burn in his chest reminds him of the feeling after running a long distance with all his strength, and then breathing in huge, cold gulps of air. It’s been a long time he has experienced that, of course, but it’s a sensation he’s unlikely to ever forget. “Well, that caught me—” a cough, “—unprepared. Can’t say I saw that coming. By the way, what are spells, exactly?”

“Uh… well,” Lu Han makes a face, apparently searching through the inside of their skulls for an answer. “A spell is… it’s a thing. It’s like water. It’s hard to explain with words.”

Minseok supposes it is. He, himself, wouldn’t be able to explain what water is if anyone asked. “I see,” he sighs, resigned. There’s an awful feeling of tiredness weighing his eyelids down. Then, he decides to resume their previous conversation. “Is there anything else you’d like me to tell?”

Lu Han’s eyes meet his, and once again Minseok is surprised by how vibrant they are. It’s not that Lu Han’s irises are of a rare color – they’re not, they’re dark brown much like Minseok’s – but there’s something to them that denounces Lu Han’s non-human nature. 

“There’s one thing,” the faerie admits quietly. “But I don’t know if I should ask. It must make you uncomfortable.”

Minseok thinks he knows what the next question is. He has been expecting it for a while, and it’s a wonder that Lu Han has yet to ask him directly about that. “It won’t,” he assures them with a kind smile. “Don’t worry about it. Ask away.”

Lu Han chews their lips a little anxiously, still hesitating. Then, they finally ask.

“What is it like to have a family?”

Minseok is taken aback. This isn’t what he had been expecting, and he can’t hide his surprise when he mutters, “oh.”

“Faeries don’t have families,” Lu Han explains, still a little anxious. “Not like humans do. A faerie’s family is their whole kin, and it doesn’t mean they’re close friends, or live together… so I’ve always wondered. Other animals have families, too, but even with them, it’s not the same. Also, I’ve never talked to them,” Lu Han adds with a shudder.

“You’ve never talked to any other animals?” Minseok doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

“Only a bird, when I was travelling. And he didn’t have a family, either.”

Minseok ponders about what he should say to answer Lu Han’s question. He needs to be as clear as possible; and yet, there’s so much to explain… “A family…” he starts off, but stops and rethinks. It’s a very tough question. 

“A family isn’t always a good thing,” he says, finally, and watches Lu Han’s expression crumble. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing, either,” he quickly adds, but it only seems to confuse Lu Han further. “It’s troublesome. A lot of terrible things can happen within a family, and people get hurt easily when it does, because people are usually closer to family members than to anyone else in the world. I guess that’s the definition of ‘family’,” he adds, frowning, in deep thoughts. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. But, despite the trouble, having a family is good. It’s like having one last safe place you can go to when you’re lonely, or lost.” At that, Minseok makes a face. That had been an awfully sappy thing to say.

When he glances at Lu Han, he’s surprised to see the faerie looking quite glum. He wonders if he said something wrong. Did he bring out some bad memories for them? They seem to notice his glance on them, and raise their eyes.

“I’m not sure if I understand,” they confess, indeed very glumly. “I’ve tried to for a long time, but—but just this, I can’t seem to understand.”

Minseok doesn’t know what to say, and heavy silence falls upon them. 

At last, when Minseok can no longer stand the silence, he breaks it with a silly question. “Do faeries sing?”

Lu Han lights up immediately. “We do!” They answer enthusiastically. “I’m quite good at it. Should I sing for you?”

“I’d like to hear it,” Minseok beams, glad he asked the right question. Then, after some thought, he adds, “that’s odd. You’re similar to plants, but you can sing.”

“Some say we learnt it from the birds,” Lu Han offers as an explanation, and straightens their back on the chair, making the butterbur sprout sway a little over their hair. It’s adorable. “This is a song we usually sang it at the bog where I was born. I don’t know if you’ll understand, because I can’t sing it in human language, but it’s about a faerie who fell in love with a human prince.” After a thoughtful pause, they add, “does your kin have a prince?”

“Uh,” Minseok supposes his ‘kin’ would be the country. “No. But we had some, in the far past.”

“I see,” Lu Han nods. “Well, the faerie fell in love with a human prince, but was afraid to approach him. So, every night, they’d make a ring of flowers and fungi bloom around his sleeping body.” Minseok waits for some kind of conclusion or punch line, but it never comes; without another word, Lu Han starts to sing.

It’s unlike any sound Minseok has ever heard. Just like their eyes, and their hair, and their smile, and their way of walking, Lu Han’s singing is definitely not human in a way – it’s something between a human’s and a bird’s singing, a sweet, pure tone in which Lu Han entones syllables that Minseok can’t, and doesn’t try to, identify as a language. The melody is cheery and mellow, which is strange to Minseok, who expected something more melancholic or bittersweet; he had imagined the faerie silently longing for a prince they can’t obtain, when the song sounds more, to his ears, as an elegy to a love so candid that continues for many and many nights even without acknowledgement. It makes him think about what kinds of feelings the faypeople value the most, and what kind of society dynamics they lead.

With thoughts about cultural differences between faeries and humans in his mind, and Lu Han’s beautiful singing voice in his ears, Minseok falls asleep. 

 

 

 

Unfortunately, he ends up being the victim of a quite rude awakening: without any kind of warning, Minseok is violently shaken back to consciousness, and jumps awake in a terrible startle.

“Dad!!” It’s Sehun’s voice – he fact Sehun is screaming alarms him even more.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Minseok holds the boy by his shoulders, as if to reassure him that he’s awake. “What’s happening? Are you alright?”

“Are _you_? I just came home from school, and she was right here!” Sehun is in hysterics. It’s a quite rare sight, and Minseok feels disoriented by it. “Did she hurt you? Did you talk to her again?”

As Sehun bombards him with questions, Minseok sits on his bed, letting the awareness of existence fill his insides. It’s still raining outside, but he supposes it’s late afternoon, deducing from the fact that Sehun is home; he’s still wearing the same pyjamas he wore last night, and his bedside table is cluttered with boxes and boxes of medicine; and ah, yes, he had been talking to Lu Han just some hours ago…

He finally realizes what happened. “Oh no,” he laments, glancing around. “I fell asleep while Lu Han was here.”

“Dad,” Sehun calls, eyes wide.

“I didn’t even see them to the door,” Minseok observes, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “How rude of me.”

“ _Dad_ ,” Sehun repeats, more urgently. “What is going on? Why was the fairy here?”

“I invited them in,” Minseok says simply, and Sehun is incredulous. “They tended the flowers for me, so I invited them in for a cup of coffee.”

“You drank coffee with a fairy? Are you serious?!” Sehun’s voice is now tiptoeing the borderline between outraged and amazed. “So she didn’t hurt you?”

“They’re not a she, Sehun. Apparently, Lu Han is related to flowers, and vegetables have no gender,” Minseok explains just for the sake of it. Then, figuring that Sehun deserved a clearer answer, he adds, “and no, they didn’t hurt me. They told me about their life as a faerie, and asked me about my life as a human. That’s all.” His stomach rumbles violently. “God, I’m starving.”

“So she—they,” he corrects quickly, glancing at Minseok. “So they’re nice? Didn’t they steal anything? Or put a curse on you, or something like that?”

Minseok snorts. “Of course they didn’t, Sehun.” Then, he remembers about the spell, and reconsiders. “They did give me something strange to drink. Or eat. I can’t tell. But I feel jolly fine right now,” he clarifies as soon as he sees the look of horror on Sehun’s face. “Actually, I feel spectacularly well. And hungry. Very hungry.”

At that, Sehun seems to finally calm down. The gladness of seeing his father well is, apparently, bigger than his suspicions towards Lu Han. “I should take your temperature,” he says before reaching for the thermometer, but both of them know Minseok’s fever is long gone.

And in fact, when he gets up to grab something to eat, Minseok notices that he feels abnormally healthy at the time. Even in his best days, Minseok’s body tires easily, never letting him forget that his physical integrity is flawed; today, however, he feels unusually light. He prepares he and Sehun a mighty afternoon tea, and eats heartily as Sehun tells him about his day in school, and little stories about his classmates, his teachers, et cetera.

“You’re really better now,” Sehun observes in a stupefied manner as Minseok finishes cleaning up balances the dirty dishes on his free hand. “You didn’t even ask me to help you.”

Oh. Minseok pauses, glancing thoughtfully at the ceiling. Usually, he can’t do this kind of chore without Sehun’s help, or he becomes excessively tired. He grins. “Well—”

“This is not a suggestion,” Sehun quickly adds, and Minseok laughs. 

“I’ll spare you today,” he says somewhat smugly, and lands the plates in the sink with relative ease. “But I do feel much better now. My best in a while, I’d say. The spell might’ve done me good.”

“The spell?” Sehun frowns, both confused and amused. 

“The thing Lu Han gave me – don’t _laugh_ at me, you brat!” Minseok yells when Sehun starts laughing, but he, too, can’t help but giggle. It does sound too absurd. “What, you don’t believe me? You think your father is making this up?”

“Of course not,” Sehun shakes his head solemnly. “You aren’t that creative,” he adds, and ducks down laughing when Minseok throws the dish rag at him.

He makes Sehun do the dishes just for the sake of it. 

 

 

 

Minseok’s everyday life is rather lonely. When he doesn’t have to go to town to shop, or to discuss business with Hongbin, he doesn’t have anything to do, so he resigns to waiting for Sehun at home, where he reads, or cooks, or tends the garden, or watches a movie on the television. Sometimes, he feels like doing none of that, and laments the emptiness of the house; on those days, he risks taking a stroll by himself.

From their first visit on, however, Lu Han shows up at Minseok’s house every day. They arrive not long after Sehun goes to school, always with a bright smile on their lips, and, after the first two occasions, Minseok has learnt to wait for them with two cups of coffee in hands. Then, they go out to tend the garden together, or go inside to chat. One day, Minseok decides to show Lu Han around, and he had never seen anyone be so excited around a toilet, ever.

It’s only funny until Lu Han starts asking details about the human digestive tract. Then, it gets a tad embarrassing.

Every small thing Minseok does fascinates Lu Han, who might know a lot of things about the human realm, but doesn’t have solid experience with much of it. The first time they eat cooked food, they rave about it for almost an hour – then, by sunset, they fall into some kind of stupor that has Minseok worrying the food might’ve made them sick. Minseok offers them the guest room, worried that they might fall asleep in the middle of the streets, but Lu Han forsakes the bed and falls asleep in the bathtub instead. Sehun never finds out.

Lu Han survives cooked food, and goes on trying the telly next. Much to Minseok’s surprise, they’re not all that impressed by it. “It reminds me of our storytelling,” Lu Han explains while Minseok channel-surfs absent-mindedly. “During festivities, some of us reenact legends of my people – there’s something similar here, right?”

“Theater,” Minseok replies, and Lu Han nods.

“And some groups cast images on a water pond, so we’ll see only the images that they want us to see,” they carry on. “So it’s very similar.”

Deep inside, Minseok wishes he could watch one of those. What kind of legends does the faypeople have? When he asks Lu Han, the faerie feebly answers:

“Many. Thousands.”

And Minseok doesn’t have it him to ask Lu Han to tell him one. 

Across the days, and weeks, Minseok and Lu Han grow doubtlessly closer to each other. It comes to the point where Lu Han feels comfortable enough to hold Minseok by his shoulders when they’re together at the garden, entwine their arms when they go out for a walk, and even hug him goodbye once the part; and Minseok feels comfortable enough to let Lu Han do all that. Not even Sehun is that touchy with him, limiting himself to occasional hugs and goodbye kisses on his cheek, but Minseok doesn’t mind it at all; instead, he finds it comforting. Lu Han is quite of a healing presence. Minseok feels more alive around them.

Not only that, but Lu Han also grows more and more curious about Minseok’s own life – not the general norm for humans as told by Minseok, but Minseok’s own experiences and opinions on things. They seem gradually more interested in Minseok’s entire history as a living being, and Minseok, flattered by the interest, talks and talks and talks until he spills a fact he hasn’t told anyone about in years.

“I used to be an equilibrist,” is what he’s telling Lu Han when it happens. “I could do a lot of quite risky tricks, I tell you. Could cross a tightrope on a monocycle with my eyes closed.”

“That sounds very dangerous,” Lu Han makes a face. “Isn’t it? For humans?”

“Well… not as much as one would thought,” he starts off, but a phantom ache prevents him from lying. “Or perhaps it is. I had to retire after I suffered an accident while performing.”

Lu Han goes pale. It’s fascinating – for all these days, Minseok had never seen Lu Han’s face change color at all, not even the faintest of the blushes when they ate the spicy kimchi fried rice. Right now, however, they’re very pale, even a little green to the face, and Minseok regrets telling them that. “You fell?” The faerie asks, horrified.

There’s no use in lying. “I did,” Minseok admits, the memory still fresh in his mind, as if only twenty weeks and not twenty years had passed since then. “You know, I had never fallen before, during the rehearsal. Even on my first day, I often lost balance, but I never fell. I guess that got to my head.” The smell of sweat and popcorn butter. The mumble of hundreds of voices under his feet. “I didn’t concentrate enough during I jump, so I landed badly,” The slip of the rope, and the weight of his own body, pulling him down, down, down. “And fell on my right knee.” The screams, the distant ceiling, the agonizing pain – and then, nothing. “My bones got smashed. I broke my arm, too, and two ribs, but my leg got the short end of the stick.”

The faerie’s face is definitely very green now, and they look like they’re about to either throw up or scream. Or both. At the same time. “So,” they suddenly say, voice feeble and thin. “So this is why your leg is always hurt.”

Minseok nods, a melancholic smile on his lips. “The bone didn’t heal well, no matter what the doctors did. I didn’t have money for a corrective surgery, either, so…” he raises his cane a little in the air. “It got a lot better with time. For years, my right leg didn’t bend, but now, look,” Minseok demonstrates them how well his leg bends now, which still isn’t as well as a healthy leg, but it’s something. It doesn’t seem to comfort Lu Han in any way.

“But because of this, you can’t walk,” is what Lu Han says, apparently devastated, and Minseok doesn’t know how to respond to that.

An uncomfortable moment of silence falls upon them. 

Eventually, Minseok finds something to change the subject with. “Today, I’m thinking of going to town to check on my shop,” he claps his hands enthusiastically, and gets to his feet. “Wouldn’t you like to come along? I could introduce you to my staff.”

Lu Han jumps to their feet immediately. “More humans!?” Their eyes twinkle with delight. “I’d love to go! Please take me with you!”

“Well, if you insist,” Minseok jeers a little, but then seems to realize something. “Hm. We might have to play dress-up with you before we go, Lu Han,” he observes, giving Lu Han an once-over. “You’d attract too much attention dressed like this.”

“They’re the best I could do,” Lu Han looks down to his own raggedy clothes a little sadly. “I searched for good clothes, but didn’t find them. Faeries don’t wear anything, you know.”

“So you don’t.” Minseok quickly swerves his mind away from wondering what faeries might look like naked. That’d be too weird. “I guess you could wear some of my clothes. We’re about the same height.”

And that’s how Minseok ends up as a one-day-stand personal stylist for Lu Han, who’s delighted to try every and anything Minseok tells them to, but wears a button-up with the front and back reversed, and seems to see no difference between the inside and the outside of most pieces. Because Minseok wants them to be surprised at their own human-like form when they finish changing, he blocks all mirrors from Lu Han’s access, which causes a fair amount of whining.

“Only when we’re finished,” Minseok repeats for the fifth time as Lu Han insists they want to see how they look. “Now, come with me. We should get you a hat for the leaf.”

“Oh yes,” Lu Han agrees, looking up as if trying to see the top of his own head. Minseok chuckles, finding it rather adorable, specially how the butterbur leaf bobs when Lu Han moves his head. “Tell me… is my leaf weird?”

Minseok frowns, guiding Lu Han up the stairs. “Well, most humans don’t have a leaf on their—”

“No, not that. I mean…” Lu Han hesitates for a second, and, this time around, Minseok detects it; a slight streak of pink that colours the faeries’ cheeks. “Do _you_ think it looks weird?”

How strange is it, that a faerie can be so self-conscious about something so small about themself? That must be their human part, Minseok concludes. Human feelings, human insecurities. Faeries and humans are not all that different, it seems to him.

“I think it looks cute,” Minseok answers truthfully, and watches as Lu Han’s face lights up, the pink from their cheeks spreading and intensifying. “And I think you’ll look even better when your flowers open up.”

“It should be soon!” Lu Han exclaims excitedly, brushing their fingertips on the flower buds that start to show up among the mop of brown hair. “I’ll bloom prettier than ever this spring.”

It’s almost a shame that they have to cover it to go out, Minseok thinks, stealing a beanie from Sehun’s closet and lending it to Lu Han.

The result is spectacular. 

“You may look now,” Minseok communicates, placing Lu Han, who had their eyes closed, in front of Sehun’s big mirror. When the faerie opens their eyes—

Their smile brings the sun into Minseok’s house.

“That’s me!” They exclaim, laughing in delight as they widen their eyes at their own reflection. Minseok can’t help the small grin he gives; dressed in proper clothes, Lu Han looks like a rather charming young one, one older than Sehun, but younger than Minseok himself. They could easily pass for a cousin or younger sibling of Minseok’s, dressed in a stripped button-up, cargo pants, and sneaker shoes Minseok hadn’t worn in years. “I—I look like a human!”

“You do,” Minseok nods, his chest warming up when he sees how brilliant Lu Han’s smile is. “Are you ready to go?”

“Wait, just a little more,” they ask, and keep admiring themself on the mirror until Minseok gets tired of waiting and drags them out with him. 

The rain seems to be finally letting up, at last, and has reduced itself to dark grey clouds and occasional threats of drizzle; Minseok is glad for that, since it means he doesn’t have to worry as much about wet sidewalks and maneuvering an umbrella and a cane at the same time. Since walking with Lu Han means entwining his arms with the faerie, and letting them cling to his arm when he makes them laugh particularly hard, Minseok is glad that he doesn’t have an umbrella for him to worry about. 

When they reach the coffee shop, Minseok doesn’t really think about what his employee’s reactions would be if he were to go in arm-to-arm with someone. He’s distracted, in all honesty; Lu Han is telling him about what kinds of celebrations faeries have, like the arrival of the seasons, as well as some kind of faerie Christmas that involves a spin-till-you-fall competition, which Lu Han, reportedly, excels at. Minseok is too busy laughing at that when they arrive at the door to notice everyone in coffee staring at them through the big front window.

“I’m a bit nervous,” Lu Han admits when Minseok asks them if they’re ready to go in. “There’s a lot of people inside.”

“Sure there aren’t,” Minseok takes a glance inside to make sure of it – and is met with every single one of his employees, as well as a couple of his regulars, staring at him as if he had suddenly grown a pair of wings. Minseok blinks. “I guess they weren’t expecting to see me. So… should we go in?”

“Wait,” pleads Lu Han, and Minseok does wait, hand on the door handle. The faerie inhales deeply, then exhales very slowly, staring at their own feet. “Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

So they go in. The bell chimes above their heads as Minseok goes in, but no one goes greet them. Minseok feels Lu Han tense up a little by his side, probably at the odd silence.

Then, seeming to snap out of a trance, Jimin rushes to them. “Welcome to Taràssaco Café!” She bows in front of them, and Jungyoon follows suit, much to Minseok’s surprise. It’s been a while since they’ve greeted him politely. For a second, he’s at a loss.

“Hey, no need to be so formal,” he smiles at them somewhat awkwardly, and they raise their eyes to stare at Lu Han, both curious and suspicious. Ah. So that’s it. “This is Lu Han, a friend of mine. Lu Han, these are Jimin and Jungyoon, they both work here. Now, where’s Hyerin…?” he’s saying when he spots her coming out from the staff room with Hongbin on her heels. “Ah, there she is. That’s Oh Hyerin. And Kim Hongbin, he’s the manager.”

“N-nice to meet you all,” Lu Han titters shyly, bowing somewhat hesitantly. It must be the first time they greet someone like that, Minseok figures, since faeries seem to forgo that kind of formality. Hongbin approaches them with wide eyes.

“Hello, boss! We’re sorry for being this flustered, we weren’t expecting you.” He seems very worried about why Minseok is there. But then again, Hongbin always seems to be worrying over something, even when he isn’t…

“I’m not here to talk business, though,” Minseok makes a gesture to dismiss the possibility. “Just showing Lu Han around,” he repeats, thumping the faerie on the back with a friendly smile. Lu Han offers a rather awkward smile at Hongbin, who bows at them.

“Nice to meet you, Lu Han sshi. I’m Kim Hongbin, Taràssaco’s manager,” he introduces himself formally, and quietly, the girls disperse, rushing to the counter to prepare to serve. This time around, they let Hongbin lead Minseok, and Lu Han, to his usual seat, but Jungyoon is still the one to approach them with the menu, smiling her prettiest smile.

“Can I get you anything, Kim Minseok sshi?” She offers, opening the menu in front of him, even though she knows what he’ll order.

“An Americano, please,” he smiles charmingly at her, almost expecting her to snap at him for it. After a second, he adds, “and I guess I’ll take those molasses biscuits today.”

“Oh, you’ll _finally_ try them,” Jungyoon’s voice drips with sarcasm, and Minseok can’t help but laugh. No more unordered biscuits for him, he guesses. Jungyoon then turns to Lu Han. “How about you, sweetheart?”

“Uh, I,” Lu Han stutters, flushing a little, and Minseok remembers, belatedly, that Lu Han can’t read the menu in front of them. “The same, please. Thank you.”

“Right away!” Jungyoon coons, uncharacteristically sweet. Minseok is amused to see that. Is Jungyoon flirting with Lu Han? She walks away to take their order, and they’re left with Hongbin at the table, who immediately starts talking.

“So… do you two know each other for a long time?” is the first thing he asks, hands twisting a bit nervously on his lap.

“Not really, no,” Minseok confesses, looking at Lu Han for confirmation. The faerie’s face is blank and nervous. Well… perhaps he really should lead that conversation. “Lu Han came to town just a while ago. We met by coincidence.”

Hongbin hums in agreement, and turns to Lu Han. “Where are you from, Lu Han sshi? After hearing your name, I was wondering if you’re from China.”

Lu Han is visibly cornered. Oh no, Minseok thinks, frowning in concern. “Uh—”

At that moment, Jungyoon arrives at their table with the biscuits, and says something incomprehensible to Lu Han. Before Minseok can decode what she’s saying, Lu Han replies equally incomprehensibly, and Jungyoon squeals in delight.

“So you _are_ from China!” Hongbin exclaims, and it finally sinks that they had been speaking Chinese. He’s stupefied. Who knew Lu Han could speak another human language… “Where are you from? Beijing?”

“Uh, around there,” Lu Han replies, and Minseok can’t tell if they’re lying or not. He had always assumed Lu Han didn’t know the exact location of his hometown – homebog or whatever – because they seemed not to have any notions of countries and provinces and whatsoever. It suddenly hits Minseok that he has only known Lu Han for a couple of weeks, no more than a month; even if he does know a lot about them, there must be a lot more he has yet to learn about. 

They manage to make small talk with Hongbin for reasonable time, through the two coffees and halfway through the big basket of biscuits Jungyoon had brought them. Hongbin is tactful enough to cover up for his own questions when Minseok and Lu Han hesitate to answer them – mostly questions about Lu Han’s job, or family – which gives Minseok time to make an answer up. He creates an entire background story for Lu Han The Human Being, who works as a meteorologist back in Beijing and decided to go hitchhiking for their vacation and got lost in their way to Seoul, thus ending up at the town. Surprisingly enough, Lu Han now knows enough about humans to lie about a hobby or two…

“Football. I love football,” is their answer when Hongbin asks them if there are any sports they’re interested in. “I used to play it at school. In my school’s team.”

Minseok almost laughs, because that fact is ripped off from his own past.

“That’s really interesting,” they say with genuine interest when, somewhere along the conversation, Hongbin bashfully admits he dreamed of being an astronaut when he was a child. “I wanted to be a detective. Like Sherlock Holmes.”

And that’s ripped off from Sehun. Minseok is delighted to see Lu han remembers Mr. Holmes’ name correctly.

Eventually, after a good hour of small talk, Hongbin leaves to the staff room to finish his management tasks. He shakes Lu Han’s hand enthusiastically before leaving, a cordial friendship kindled between the two of them, and Minseok feels a little jealous at how easily Lu Han seems to make friends. He also feels a small feeling of unreasonable longing; the same he feels when he realizes Sehun is growing, and that, eventually, he’ll leave Minseok behind to have his own home. It’s a mix of pide and melancholy.

“You did well,” Minseok compliments when Hongbin finally leaves, and Lu Han drinks a huge breath of relief. “No one could tell you’re not human. Nice attention to detail.”

“Thank you,” Lu Han smiles a bit shakily at him. “I was so nervous. Hongbin sshi seems to know you really well.”

Minseok hums thoughtfully. Does he? “I guess he does,” Minseok admits, taking a sip of the new cup of coffee he had ordered just before Hongbin left. “Better than anyone that’s not Sehun, I’d say. We’ve worked together for several years now.”

Lu Han nods, making a vague, distracted ‘huh’ sound. “And them…?” They ask, shooting a glance towards the girls, who visibly disperse under their eyes. Minseok, too, looks. It looked like they had been having a secret talk of some sorts.

“They too,” Minseok nods, observing how red some of them are. Could they be seriously crushing on Lu Han? Minseok grins at the thought. “I guess the people here are my only friends in town. We get along well.”

“Friends…” Lu Han repeats after him, still talking in a distant voice. Minseok gets a bit worried at how Lu Han is staring into space, seeming, at the same time, thoughtful and slightly forlorn.

“Is everything alright?” Minseok asks, tilting his head to inspect Lu Han’s face from a closer angle. “You don’t seem well. Did the food make you ill again?”

“Oh, no! No, it was delicious,” Lu Han shakes their head vigorously. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, Minseok ah. Don’t worry.”

And, perhaps because Lu Han uses the rarely used nickname that Minseok himself had taught them, he lets it be.

However, the longer they stay at the coffee shop, the worse Lu Han’s mood seems to get, much to Minseok’s surprise. Minseok tries to brighten them with funny stories about his days in Seoul, and Jimin even drops by to add her own funny stories to it – Jimin is very good at telling jokes – but nothing seems to shake Lu Han off their odd state of melancholy. No matter what Minseok talks to them about, or who comes to talk to them, or how good the coffee tastes, Lu Han stays the same; distracted, distant, forlorn, and dismissive when asked about it.

Eventually, Minseok decides it’s enough. Seeing Lu Han like that is starting to ruin his own mood as well, and the only remedy for it, as they’ve tried everything else, is to leave the coffee shop. He brusquely tells Lu Han that they’re leaving – perhaps a little too brusquely, he figures when he sees the startled look in the faerie’s face – and gets to his feet to pay the tab, telling Lu Han that they can finish their coffee leisurely, to amend for it.

Hyerin is working at the cashier when he approaches it. When she sees him coming, she makes a face. “Not again, boss. Haven’t I told you it doesn’t make sense for you to insist on paying?!”

“May I tip you guys, at least?” Minseok insists, as he always does when he stops by, and Hyerin rolls her eyes, but silently accepts the tip. “Thank you for treating us well. Lu Han and I had a good time.”

“You’re welcome to bring your friend whenever you want. Jimin has a crush, it seems,” Hyerin observes, and Minseok turns around to find Jimin cleaning their table, shyly talking to Lu Han while doing so. Ah, there it is, that feeling again. “I was surprised, honestly. I guess we all are. We’ve never heard you talking about anyone who’s not your son to us. How’s Sehunnie, by the way?”

“He’s fine. Busy with the school festival,” Minseok tells her quickly, going back to the original subject. “I only met Lu Han recently. That’s why I never—”

“Boss, you don’t understand,” she interrupts him, as if whining. “You come here always at the same time, orders the same coffee, talks about the same things, wears the same kind of clothes. It’s always so regular that sometimes it looks like you plan your routine to the minimum detail – ‘today I’ll wear this checkered sweater, and leave home at nine o’clock’, that kind of thing – and we all thought we’d notice if you finally found someone.”

“… _found someone_?” Minseok frowns suspiciously at Hyerins words. “You make it sound like…” but Hyerin gives him a _look_ , one that says yes, that’s exactly what I meant, and Minseok barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. “Hyerin!!”

“What?” She puts her hands on her hips. “You’re telling me _it’s not like that_ or something like that?”

“But it isn’t!” Minseok can feel the embarrassment seeping deep through his bones. “Lu Han is a friend, Hyerin!” But Hyerin looks mortified.

“I have never, absolutely never, seen you blush, boss,” she says, and it has a final tone to it. Minseok merely rolls his eyes at her, and bids her goodbye.

His cheeks are still warm when he and Lu Han leave through the front door, and he hesitates a little before offering his arm for the faerie to take. As they slowly make their way somewhere – anywhere away from the coffee shop – Minseok thinks about Hyerin’s misunderstanding. He shoots down a glance at the arm he has entwined to Lu Han’s, at how Lu Han’s pale, thin fingers hold onto the fabric of his sweater in a loose grasp, but there, holding, clinging. It probably looks rather intimate to an outsider, but… but it’s just how they work. It’s how they’ve come to work, slowly inching closer day by day, over cups of coffee and fairytales. There isn’t anything wrong about that, is there?

But there isn’t anything wrong about love either, is there?

In the distance, thunder roars. Minseok can smell the rain; it’s bound to come back stronger than ever, and, for the first time in a long while, he worries about his flowers. As long as Lu Han had been there to tend the garden with him, he had ceased to worry about them as much. When had Lu Han become an everyday presence in his otherwise lonely, unexciting, rather dull life…?

Before Minseok realizes it, they’re at the park – the park by the riverside, where they had talked to each other for the first time – and Lu Han is letting go of his arm. Their steps halt to a stop.

Minseok casts a concerned look at Lu Han, who has their back turned at him. “Lu Han?”

“Are you mad at me?” The faerie asks. 

Minseok’s brows crease in confusion. Then, he recalls how dry he had been when telling Lu Han they’d leave. “I’m not,” he says, sincerely. “I’m sorry for being sudden about leaving. You didn’t seem like you were feeling well, so I figured we should leave.”

With Lu Han’s face hidden from his view, Minseok is scared he won’t read their expressions correctly, and won’t know if they lie to him. He puts extra attention on the line of Lu Han’s shoulders, then, observing how tense it looks at the time. Feeling cornered, perhaps?

“I was fine,” Lu Han says feebly, and Minseok doesn’t need the extra attention to tell they’re lying. “I am fine, actually.”

“It didn’t seem like it,” Minseok retorts. “You don’t need to lie to me, Lu Han. I—”

“I’m not lying!” Lu Han snaps, and thunder rumbles once again, now closer. 

Lu Han had never lost their temper like that.

Or rather, Minseok had never seen them lose their temper like that.

_You don’t really know them, Minseok. You don’t know them, and they don’t know you, no matter how you might feel._

“I’m sorry,” Minseok apologizes weakly. “I’m sorry. I… just assumed. I apologize.”

His apologies are met with silence. Has he angered the faerie for good? What kind of wrathful revenge can a faerie cast upon a human? Minseok thinks of all his flowers dying, or Sehun falling ill. The silence seems longer and heavier the more he thinks about it.

Then, Lu Han turns around, and on their face there’s an expression Minseok hasn’t seen in years. They’re tense, angry, but their brows are creased sadly – frustration, an emotion Minseok is intimate with – and their eyes, always so vivid, are as cloudy as the sky above their heads, and just as stormy.

“I don’t want to be lying,” they say, and it sounds like they’re pleading. “But it’s so strange. It’s so strange.”

Minseok is afraid they might be feeling seriously ill. Could it be the biscuits? Or coffee intoxication? “Lu Han?”

“I never thought I could feel like this,” they say, clutching their own chest through their shirt – Minseok’s shirt. Minseok seems to realize, at last, that Lu Han is wearing his things, and, even if he had known this before, it stirs something in him. “It’s an ugly, terrible feeling. And it doesn’t stop growing, like a pest.”

“What is it?” Minseok is increasingly worried. Even when Lu Han had suffered from their cooked-food-induced drunkenness, they hadn’t looked this much in pain. Minseok wants to help them to feel better. “Can I help? Do you want to go back to my place?”

Lu Han’s hand on their chest tightens, and they shake their head emphatically. Minseok’s body is starting to respond to the stress, aching all over with tiredness. “What do you feel, Lu Han? Tell me. I want to help.”

“I feel—” Lu Han chokes on their own words. They look too distressed for Minseok not to worry. His heart is beating faster from the fear it might be something terrible, something that will make Lu Han go away. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to put it into words. I don’t know what to do—I think it might be jealousy.”

It’s shocking. _Jealousy_ isn’t a concept foreign to faeries, if Lu Han’s stories are to be trusted. Minseok almost laughs in relief; so it was just that! “What are you jealous of?” Minseok asks in a soft voice.

“Of that gentleness!” Lu Han shouts, pointing a finger at Minseok’s face, and Minseok freezes in place. “I don’t know what to do. I love your kindness when we talk, and when we’re together, but when you talk to someone else—it irritates me! It makes me wish you weren’t so gentle!”

They make a pause, breathing deeply, as if waiting for Minseok’s reaction. Only, Minseok doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t know what to say, or what to think. He’s not even sure if he understands what Lu Han just said.

“Why do I feel like this?” as if realizing Minseok won’t say anything, Lu Han goes on, voice much less angry, but sadder. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m being so detestable. When I saw you talking to them, to your friends… I realized I had been wishing you’d be kind only to me. That I’d be the only one for you. Because you’re the only one for me.” Lu Han’s eyes seem to fill up with tears at that, and Minseok barely notices how strange a faerie’s tears are, because he’s too stunned by the redness of Lu Han’s face to notice it at the time. “I don’t have anyone else, and I’ve never had.”

What does Lu Han mean by that? Is it them wishing they’d be Minseok’s only friend? Or is it them wishing they could be more, to Minseok, than a friend like the ones he has at the coffee shop?

Which one is it? Minseok needs to know.

“Lu Han—” he starts, but Lu Han shakes their head. “No, listen—”

“I’m sorry,” Lu Han interrupts him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. This is too much.”

“No, listen to me,” Minseok insists, stepping forward, but Lu Han gives one step back, and then two, and three. “No, Lu Han, don’t run—Lu Han!”

Before Minseok can reach them, or think of something to say, Lu Han turns their back to him and bolts away.

“Lu Han, stop! Don’t run!” Minseok screams, desperate. “You know I can’t chase after you!”

Lu Han doesn’t stop, and, in a fit of rage and stubbornness, Minseok throws his cane to the floor and attempts to run after them.

It’s no longer than two steps before he’s fallen to the ground, clutching his right leg in excruciating pain, vision blackening as quickly as a light going off. Just before he loses consciousness, he hears steps, someone running, someone screaming, and thinks, _don’t go, don’t go, don’t go yet_ …

 

 

When he regains conscience, he’s on someone’s back. He’s fairly aware that he’s on someone’s back, even before opening his eyes, because of the characteristic heat and the hands on the back of his knees. Who is it? Sehun? Lu Han? He opens his eyes.

“Junmyeonnie…?” He mutters when he spots the black hair and feels the fabric of a suit under his arms.

“That’d be me,” Junmyeon replies a bit breathily. “So you’ve woken up. You were awake when I found you, but a little out of yourself. I suppose you might be catching a cold.”

Minseok casts a glance around. Junmyeon is carrying Minseok up the hill where both of their homes are located, side by side at the very top of it. The sky is darker than ever, flashing with lightning now and then, and Minseok can feel the drizzle that precedes the storm beginning to fall. It’s fortunate that Junmyeon found him in time. And speaking of which…

“Is my cane with you?” He asks, faintly recalling throwing it to the ground before passing out.

“Sehunnie grabbed it before I could,” Junmyeon admits, a bit upset by it, apparently. “I shouted for him to wait, but he seemed to be in great hurry. He grabbed it and ran towards the riverside.”

He must have chased Lu Han, Minseok thinks in the back of his head. Then, it sinks. “Sehun? Sehun was there?!”

“Sehun got there before I did. I think he was coming back from school,” Junmyeon replies. “When I saw you two, he was already grabbing your cane, and I saw you on the ground, so I rushed to help. I don’t think he heard me coming. I hope he doesn’t think you were kidnapped or anything.”

Minseok doesn’t have anything to say, so silence falls upon them. He’s still digesting what has happened – Lu Han’s strange mood and even stranger confession, their escape, Sehun chasing after them with Minseok’s cane in hands.

His head aches, badly. He can’t wait till he gets home so he can lie down.

“I’m sorry for causing you this much trouble,” Minseok apologizes once Junmyeon goes through his front gate with him still on his back. “You can sit me down under the pergola. I’m sure Sehun won’t be long, and he can take me inside—”

“No can do, hyung. Give me your keys.” Junmyeon does sit him under the pergola, but won’t budge until Minseok, begrudgingly, hands him the house keys. “There’s a storm coming. I can’t possibly leave you outside in this state.”

In this state. _Junmyeon talks as if I were a cripple_ , a part of Minseok’s brain thi, irritatednks. _But you_ are _a cripple, Minseok_ , the other part of his brain retorts. Minseok sighs, looking up at the honeysuckle in bloom.

“Did I ever tell you about the honeysuckle?” He asks before he can stop himself, voice faint. For some reason, he feels an urge to speak, to cry, to let something out. Only, he himself doesn’t know what this ‘something’ is.

“I don’t think you did,” Junmyeon admits, struggling to unlock the front door. “I don’t know much about flowers, to be frank. A-ha,” he exclaims when the lock finally clicks open. “Come. Let’s get you in.”

“It’s not about the flower, Junmyeon,” Minseok complains, voice barely above a whisper, and shaky, for reasons he can’t understand and doesn’t approve of. He sounds delirious. Junmyeon must think he is, indeed, delirious.

“You can tell me later, then,” is the reply that Junmyeon gives him while hitching him up his back once again. “I’m afraid you might be running a fever.”

As he thought. And Minseok doesn’t have the strength to protest, so he falls silent, and lets himself be carried by loneliness once again.

 

 

 

When Minseok falls asleep, he sees a fantastic dream.

He hasn’t dreamed that vividly in years, ever since he started in the circus. Back in the day, he never saw any dreams, too tired to do anything but pass out on his bed; after the accident and his retirement, his dreams were always distant from his body, like an old movie happening beyond the limitless gap of a television screen.

It has been a while since he last was the main character of his dreams, and, in this one, he’s definitely the main character. He’s swinging in a trapeze, aiming for the tightrope extended few meters under his feet, while the crowd observes him from what must be kilometers below the rope. It’s frightening. Minseok is frightened by the height, which corresponds with his post-accident self, but he moves freely, which does not. He swings, and swings, and thinks, _I can’t let go right now_ – but he does, before he can think twice, and he’s falling and falling and the rope is long gone.

Only, he’s not falling. He’s floating. He’s in control of how he falls, and decides to fall slowly, like a leaf when autumn comes. When he reaches the floor, he’s sitting under the pergola of his garden – how it looked several years ago, granted, but it’s definitely his garden – and billions of luminous sprites are flying among his flowers, and singing.

“Welcome to your son’s birthday,” a nearby sprite, who has a big sunflower instead of hair, says to him. “Here, we tell the story of a human who fell for a faerie prince.”

“Isn’t it the opposite?” Minseok asks.

“It was, several centuries ago, but all this rain changed it,” the sprite says, glancing at the sky in a displeased manner. “Come dance with us. Today, you’ll become a faerie too.”

 _But I don’t want to be a faerie. What about Sehun?_ Minseok thinks, and chooses to stay away. He listens as the faeries sing about how a lot of rain would make a river overflow, but it’d also make the fish conquer the earth, and isn’t that wonderful? Minseok supposes it is, and decides to check the river to see if it’s full of fish. With one hop over his fence, he's at the park near the riverside.

There, Lu Han is sitting at a weeping willow’s roots, butterbur leaf over his head like an umbrella; it’s what makes Minseok notice that it’s raining. Lu Han looks beautiful, dressed in a flowy fabric that floats freely around him, as if lighter than air.

“Lu Han, I’m sorry for shouting at you,” Minseok says when he arrives by the faerie’s side. Lu Han gets to their feet, and walks closer to Minseok, until both are under the butterbur leaf.

“It’s okay. It didn’t make sense, for me to plant an oak there,” Lu Han replies, laughing briskly, and Minseok laughs as well. 

“It was a silly idea,” Minseok agrees. “But you shouldn’t go. You should come to Sehun’s birthday. The faeries are waiting for you.”

At that, Lu Han shakes their head. “I can’t. I need to go back home. I’ve run out of spells.”

“You haven’t!” Minseok exclaims in surprise. “How can you have?”

“I drank them with the coffee. It made me these beautiful clothes,” Lu Han gestures at their clothes. “But now I must go. I’ll come back in the summer, along with the rains.”

“No! Lu Han!” Minseok screams as Lu Han starts floating away from his reach. No matter how high he jumps, his hands can’t reach the faerie – it’s like Lu Han isn’t even there. “Don’t go! You know I can’t chase after you!”

He wakes up in a startle, face moist with sweat and eyes swollen with tears. The feeling of déjà vu is like bitter medicine in his mouth. 

It takes a while for him to comprehend his surroundings. He’s in his room, on his bed, and it’s dark outside. The sound of the rain is deafening, roaring with fury on the house’s roof as lightning cracks and thunder rumbles. What awful weather, Minseok thinks. It’s almost as if someone had made his feelings into a storm.

There’s the sound of steps outside, and the faint smell of food amidst the thick scent of the rain. Sehun must be back, Minseok thinks quite miserably. It must be the first time he doesn’t find joy in Sehun being home.

Not getting up just yet, Minseok thinks of his dream, and recalls the happenings of that day. He was now quite sure he’d never see Lu Han again – and yet, thinking about it like this only worsened his misery. He had so much fun with Lu Han, and felt such a connection with the faerie, that it was much more than a pity to see them disappear without a goodbye. Minseok wishes he could’ve at least said something to sane their doubts and confusion; that he could’ve said that yes, Lu Han _was_ special to him in a way, and that they might not have been the only one in Minseok’s life – but they were one of a kind. One who couldn’t ever be replaced by any human, or, Minseok suspects, any faerie. 

But now it was too late, Minseok thought bitterly, glancing at his window to watch the rain.

He almost has a heart attack when he sees Lu Han’s face on the window, smiling sheepishly at him.

 _I must be seeing things_ , Minseok thinks as he rubs his eyes frantically. When he looks again, however, Lu Han is still there, even if his smile looks quite stiffer, and he waves a hand to Minseok. It’s not a second before Minseok is on his feet, at the window, opening it with violence.

“What are you doing outside?! There’s a storm!!” He screams over the deafening sound of thunder, noting, on the back of his mind, that Lu Han is still wearing his clothes, but the beanie was gone. The lavender-colored flowers in their hair had at last opened. “Look, you’ve bloomed!”

“I have,” Lu Han agrees, lowering their head for Minseok to take a look. “What do you think?”

“It’s rather pretty,” Minseok compliments, admiring the flowers before he remembers he has something urgent to say. “ _You_ are rather pretty. Lu Han, I’m terribly sorry for today. I should’ve said—”

“Don’t,” Lu Han shushes him, a finger to his lips, and oh my, Lu Han’s fingers are so warm despite the rain. “It was my fault. What I’ve done is very shameful. Faeries are taught not to force their feelings on others, and that’s what I did. That’s what I’ve been doing this whole time.”

Minseok wants to tell them otherwise. Minseok _needs_ to tell them otherwise. “But I don’t mind. I’m alright with it, really. I just don’t want you to go.”

At that, Lu Han smiles sadly. Their hand falls from Minseok’s lips to the window’s mill, and Minseok fears he might know what comes next.

“I have to go,” Lu Han says, just as Minseok had feared, and Minseok’s blood grows cold. 

“But… but you still have spells with you,” Minseok justifies, and he wonders if it shows on his face, how much he wants Lu Han to stay a little longer, just a little longer. Lu Han nods, pulling the two jars from the pocket of their (Minseok’s) pants; one of them, Minseok notices, is almost empty.

“The weather will dry up soon. When it does, I won’t be able to stay,” they say. “And I already have use for these spells, before I go.”

Before Minseok can say anything, Lu Han pops the full jar open, and it all happens even faster than the first time; Minseok opens his mouth to say something, and the spell darts into his mouth, and down his throat, and he coughs and coughs and chokes on spit.

“Lu Han, no! Your spell!” Minseok screams as Lu Han enters his bedroom by the window, pushing, without their hands, Minseok towards the bed. “Why did you do this? You shouldn’t waste this kind of thing on me!”

“I’m not wasting anything on you,” Lu Han affirms firmly, giving Minseok a final push so he falls on his butt on the mattress. Lu Han’s hands come to rest on Minseok’s right thigh, where warmth starts to pool. “I wanted to do this, ever since I saw your pain. How cruel it is that someone as kind as you suffers so much?”

It’s then when Minseok realizes what Lu Han is doing, and it makes him feel so much and so intensely that his chest feels like it’ll burst. Tears spill without warning from his eyes, and Lu Han watches them fall, eyes sad, but mesmerized. “I’ve never seen you cry.”

“I don’t cry often,” Minseok confesses, trembling as he wipes the tears off his face.

“And you shouldn’t.” One of the faerie’s hands comes up to cup Minseok’s chin; and slowly, very slowly and cautiously, their faces come closer, and closer, until they’re as close as they can be and Lu Han plants a tender kiss on Minseok’s lips.

How long has it been since Minseok was last kissed like this?

How long has it been since someone has loved him so purely?

It feels like too much to him, but he wants time to stop, so they can stay like that for a second, or a minute longer. Just a little more time would be fine – just a little.

“Thank you for having me,” Lu Han whispers against his lips, eyes closed, and Minseok learns how pretty Lu Han’s lashes are. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

“A kiss?” Minseok can’t help his curiosity. “Faeries don’t kiss?”

Lu Han shakes their head, stepping back, away from Minseok’s face, from Minseok’s warmth, from Minseok. “We don’t.” When they say this, they’re already by the window’s mill once again, their last jar of spell in hands. “Which I think it’s a waste.” And they pop it open.

A flash of light illuminate Minseok’s bedroom like he had never seen it before. He’s distracted by it, momentarily, and watches as the light forms a ring around his bed. The light thins out, thins out, and thins out, until it fades; and on the floor, forming a perfect circle around Minseok’s bed, there’s a ring of moss roses and white mushrooms, colouring the brown of the wood with their vibrancy.

When Minseok looks up, Lu Han is gone, and his curtains flows sadly as the open window welcomes the rain.

At that moment, Sehun opens the door. He’s wearing an apron over his pyjamas, and smells strongly of curry sauce. “Dinner is ready.” Then, he takes in the appearance of the bedroom, and flicks the lamp on. “What the hell happened here?!”

The first thing he does is to rush and shut the window, raving about how Minseok must be doing this on purpose, what is he thinking, _dad, seriously, are you trying to run away or something?_ , and how that’s why Minseok is always sick, et cetera. Minseok pays him no attention, admiring the goodbye gift Lu Han had left him, and Sehun seems to notice. He, too, directs he glance at that. “And what’s this?” He points at the fairy ring, still visibly annoyed. “Are you trying to bring the garden in?”

Minseok shakes his head, a silly grin on his lips. “I think I’m being courted,” Minseok says dreamily, trying to get on his feet – and experiencing, for the first time in decades, a painless ease in doing it. “Flattering, is it not?”

Sehun scoffs indignantly, and sashays back to the kitchen muttering about faeries who have no shame and should know better than go around stealing other people’s fathers. Minseok, who’s in an amazingly good mood, follows him suit, skipping his way down the hallway humming a familiar melody.

 

 

 

 

Epilogue.

 

“I don’t think you needed to pack quite this much, Sehun,” Minseok says as Sehun huffs and puffs under the sun, sweating as he pulls two big suitcases with him along the roadside. “We’re just going to camp.”

“Well, camping demands us,” he heaves, almost reaching Minseok. “to be prepared,” almost there, Minseok cheers on him mentally. “for all emergencies.” He finally gets there, and props his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. “God, these tents are heavy.

“Aren’t they? How odd,” Minseok gestures his own backpack. “And now, we wait. Our exciting trip has just begun!”

Since Minseok’s miraculous recover during that year’s spring – one that became the town’s new rumor, linking it to the end of the strange rains and how Minseok was some kind of witch or maybe a nine-tailed fox – he had become a much more active man. He had rekindled his love for sports, specially football, and it wasn’t long till the town’s school hired him as a part-time football team coach and unofficial nurse, much to Sehun’s simultaneous pride and distress. He had started plans of expansion for Tarràssaco Café, and hired a couple of new employees, one of which was involved in a rather complicated romantic situation with Hongbin which Minseok didn’t know much about. More importantly, Minseok was taking care of the garden better than ever – and the flowers were blossoming with unseen beauty.

It’s obvious that having his leg cured, and the cane ditched, was a major cause for all of that, but Minseok also credits the improvement of his sleep quality. Every night since his cure, he falls asleep peacefully on his bed, and wakes up to a beautiful fairy ring blossoming around his bed – courtesy of an old friend, who seems a little prone to exaggerated romanticism.

Not that Minseok is complaining; he kinds of likes it, in fact.

And so, since Minseok’s life has been looking up so much these days, nothing more natural for him than to plan special vacations with his son. On the rare nights he manages to catch the faerie by his window, singing softly to him even though he’s supposedly asleep, both of them make plans. Minseok hasn’t had a trip in years – and never a trip to the faerie realm.

“I hope this is worth the hard work,” Sehun says snottily, which Minseok knows is his way to express anxiety. “If we end up kicked out of the faerie kingdom, I’ll—”

“Sehun,” Minseok interrupts his silly child, patting him on the head. My, he has grown again. He’s definitely taller than Minseok now. “Just enjoy it. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

Sehun nods in silence, accepting the caress tamely. Sehun is such a sweet kid, Minseok thinks to himself. He wonders if he and Lu Han will ever be friends. 

“Hello, tourists,” a voice talks to them behind their back, and they both startle; Sehun remains tense, but Minseok relaxes as soon as he recognizes the voice. “Are you ready to enter my world?”

And like this – because of an unexpected meeting, which results in a new life, a new love, and the best summer vacations ever, even if peppered by minor mishaps – Minseok’s life blooms more beautifully than any flower.


End file.
